


hazy night

by gyoko



Series: kinktober 2020 [2]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Phone Sex, ridiculous amounts of pining considering they're already dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyoko/pseuds/gyoko
Summary: “fiona,” he says, voice stern and incredulous, “are you jerking off right now?”all rhys gets in response is a hum, and fiona’s head being thrown back for him to see, splayed out on camera and he almost passes out. the desire to reach into his phone and touch has never been stronger. he feels his cock hardening in his underwear, his belly coiling with tight, burning heat. and now that it’s quiet between them, he can hear the slick sound of her hand working between her legs.oh my god.
Relationships: Fiona/Rhys (Borderlands)
Series: kinktober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016218
Kudos: 12





	hazy night

**Author's Note:**

> written for kinktober day 20: ldr + phone sex

long distance relationships are _hard_. rhys realizes this three months into his already established routine: come home after an exhausting ten hour shift overseeing that everything runs smoothly in his company, shower, grab a snack and make himself comfortable on his king sized bed while he facetimes his girlfriend of five years.

it’s not like they haven’t discussed this in so much detail, ground it into microscopic crumbs night after night after night since fiona told him about the opening for her desired master’s program in boston. graduating in engineering from MIT had always been fiona’s dream and honestly, rhys couldn’t be prouder of her. however, accepting the offer had also meant that she’d abandon her home in sunny california – and subsequently, him as well – to replace it with the cold, foggy air of the upstate for the following two years.

rhys remembers the day he dropped her off at the airport with striking clarity. one may argue it’s only been three months, so it’s natural that the memory stays fresh in his mind, but rhys remembers every little detail; from the shampoo she used to wash her hair in a haste that morning, to the way her soft hand felt in his palm before she ultimately had to let go because the boarding time was coming to an end. he stayed put on the same spot until he saw the _united_ plane ascend into air and only then allowed the emptiness to wash over him, exhaling a heavy breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding in.

realistically, a five-hour plane ride isn’t that impossible for someone like him. rhys comes from a rich family, a long line of business owners and he always knew that would end up being his fate someday. _atlas corp_ is twice as successful today while in his ownership than it was five years ago while his father was still in charge, just how his father made it ten times as successful compared to _his_ father during his reign. strongforks pride themselves in business management and with the position he has now, rhys _knows_ he can afford to fly his private jet to boston every weekend if he so pleased. so really, fiona isn’t _unreachable_.

it’s just not something she’d want him to do.

the night before her departure, fiona had interlocked their fingers, kissed his nose, and told him the words he’d engraved in his retinas: _you need to let me do this on my own_. of course, he understood what she meant. fiona was never the kind of girl who’d let herself depend on anyone, let alone someone like rhys, when it’s people like him who paid for her tuitions her entire life. fiona worked her ass off for every scholarship she was granted, every award she was given and every 106% score on every test she had ever taken. that kind of hardworking personality, driven by the desire to make something of herself, is what attracted rhys to her in the first place, despite their rocky beginnings.

(she hated him, that is. utterly despised him, thought he was full of shit and a spoiled rich brat – and when they met, she may have been a little right about that, not that he’d ever admit to any of it.)

so rhys’ private jet stayed grounded and rhys altered his daily routine to a life on his own, while still keeping in touch with fiona every day. they’ve adapted to their new reality a lot smoother than rhys initially thought they would – they’re both very strong personalities, indicated by their constant passionate bickering over the most insignificant things – but fiona is so busy that she has no energy to lecture rhys at night and rhys is too smitten watching her fall asleep on their video call to make fun of her for drooling all over her shoulder.

some nights are still hard, though. it’s only been three months and rhys finds himself aching for her presence more and more with each passing day. it simultaneously becomes easier and worse, and he can’t decide how he feels about that yet.

on nights like these, where coming home to an empty apartment with barely any remnants of fiona’s presence in it (she’d left behind her stuffed animals for him to sleep with at night, her perfume so rhys can still remember her scent, her old, torn up pajamas that keep guard of her otherwise empty side of the closet) makes his heart clench pitifully in his chest, he likes to call fiona immediately after he closes the fridge door.

she picks up on the third ring and meets a face full of rhys gulping down a gallon of milk and cereal, tiny drops of it dripping down the side of his mouth unattractively.

“hello to you too, honey,” she says sarcastically, “you look… fine.”

at least he has enough decency to swallow before he speaks – rhys is a grown man and a CEO of an established manufacturing company, “hey babe, lookin’ hella good over there.”

fiona, as a matter of fact, _does_ look hella good. she actually looks rested for once, her sunken in dark circles have lightened into her natural skin color (though it could be makeup) and her hair, now longer and a darker brown, is braided and tied into a ponytail on the back of her skull. she also seems happier, not that she looked sad before this as she’s told him numerous times, she’s really happy in boston, has made _tons_ of new friends (he’s totally not envious that they get to spend all their time with fiona and he can’t) and is really happy with her research mentors. there’s just a certain kind of lightness in her fond smile that tells him she’s not _really_ disgusted by him wolfing down an entire bowl of cereal while on facetime with her, and that puts him at ease ridiculously fast as well.

“did you just come back from work?” she asks, fumbling with something off-camera. they usually call around ten in the evening in los angeles, which equals to one a.m. boston time, and tonight is no different. fiona likes spending the half hour to forty-five minutes before sleep inevitably takes over talking to rhys until she can’t form coherent sentences anymore, but tonight she seems eager to keep the conversation going. she’s also not in her pajamas, at least not her usual set – her shirt is black and a deep v-neck with spaghetti straps. he can see the top of her breasts peeking out underneath it. he wonders briefly what that’s all about, especially as she continues messing with whatever is bothering her outside of rhys’ field of vision, but he gives her the daily report like usual. rhys _really_ likes talking, and especially when it concerns his work.

“and then one of the employees goes, ‘ _how the hell is this a manufacturing company, but the coffee machine is always broken?!_ ’ yeah, so now timothy is on coffee duty every morning. lucky for him starbucks is just a block from the HQ but man, he really shouldn’t have said anything, hahah- what are you doing?”

he’s already in bed by the time he notices something is off about fiona. he sneaks a glance in the right corner of his phone screen to check the time – he’s been talking for almost ten minutes now and she hasn’t interrupted him once. all he’s gotten in response were hums of agreement and tiny little ‘ah’s that he assumed meant she’s, again, agreeing with him. in that time, he’d shrugged off his suit jacket, tie, dress shirt and pants and now he’s sitting shirtless on top of the silk covers in nothing but his boxers and high ankle socks. fiona hasn’t made a comment about his careless nudity once.

(rhys wouldn’t call himself a prude, just _modest_ – he won’t show unnecessary skin unless they’re playing around, and those scenes are hard to execute over the phone.

or so he thought, apparently.)

at this point, he notices fiona looks a bit _too_ relaxed. her cheeks have filled with color and some of the braids had become undone from her ponytail and fell into her eyes, but she doesn’t seem to notice, or care, that there’s stray hair in her eyeball. in fact, her eyelids are heavy, barely holding open, and he swears he isn’t crazy when he says her lips are bitten red and swollen slightly, like she’s been chewing on them this entire time. like he wouldn’t have taken note of that!

“fiona?” he calls again, “you with me? is the connection okay? i swear, i upgraded to a 5G phone a few weeks ago—i’ll have to talk to the-”

“rhys,” she _moans_ , and all of rhys’ blood travels south instinctively and he freezes in his spot on the bed.

“fiona,” he says, voice stern and incredulous, “are you jerking off right now?”

all he gets in response is a hum, and fiona’s head being thrown back for him to see, splayed out on camera and he almost passes out. the desire to reach into his phone and _touch_ has never been stronger. he feels his cock hardening in his underwear, his belly coiling with tight, burning heat. and now that it’s quiet between them, he can hear the _slick_ sound of her hand working between her legs.

_oh my god_.

“oh my god,” he repeats, out loud this time, and it’s the first time fiona actually acknowledges his presence with a smirk of victory. she must have played him like a fiddle, right into her little trap. she tilts the camera so he can see her outfit better, and it seems he was right – she’s not wearing her pajamas. she’s wearing a black, lacey camisole with nothing else underneath. the pattern of the lace is transparent and light, so he has an almost clear view of her chest, the dip of her navel, where the camisole ends and her hand is cupping her pussy, so he can’t see what she’s doing to herself, only her knuckles curled in a weird way, like they’re holding something. he can listen, though – listen to the wet sounds of her working in and out of herself, the tiny whines that escape her lips, the ones she doesn’t want to hide from him. he curses under his breath when he hears his stuttered name, “you’ve- you’ve been doing that the entire time i was talking, haven’t you?”

she nods, sucking her lower lip between her teeth. the camera is back on her, sparkly brown eyes and dilated black pupils staring right at him, “i’ve been missing you like crazy today, rhysie, and your stupid little pointless rants. i don’t care how many sugars you’ve put in your coffee and how you tripped on the office carpet in front of zer0 twice but _god_ , i wanna hear all about it. it turns me on so much.”

rhys is too hung up on the _i’ve been missing you_ confession to care about essentially being insulted; so she’s felt it too, the absence of him? rhys had always felt so alone in this; always letting fiona chase her dreams at her own pace, being her cheerleader and her rock whenever she needed him, not wanting to tie her down to him unless she so desired but it feels so _good_ to be reminded that she needs him too. needs him to be there, needs to be with him, that she feels just as incomplete without him.

“i miss you, too,” he murmurs, wishing nothing more but to bury his nose in the crook of her neck, “more than anything. every day.”

“is that _really_ what you decide to focus on?” she laughs, but the expression on her face is tender, “d’ya wanna know a secret?”

her voice is hushed, an octave deeper and so wrecked, he wonders if she’s been doing this for a while. if rhys’ slightly early call interrupted something private, something she hadn’t intended him to see – or at least, not like this. but he still leans in, like that will help him hear her better, and says, “yeah. yeah, i do.”

his words come out breathy and needy, but he doesn’t even care. she smiles at him, soft and caring and full of affection and he almost melts into the bedsheets right there. but then she moves the camera down again, this time giving him a clear view of what exactly she’s working into herself between her legs, and his hands reach into his shorts to grab his dick on instinct.

“holy shit,” he _whines_ , how embarrassing, “where did you get _that_?”

she’s fucking herself on a dildo, flesh colored and sparkly wet with lube and her own slick most likely, steady and fast with the rhythm he knows she likes from all the times she’s begged him to pound into her exactly like that. fast, dirty, effective, but she seems to be dragging it out on purpose, pausing to capture the whole picture on the screen for him to admire, mouth agape in awe.

“had it made before i left,” she murmurs, “it’s your size, you know? basically a replica of your dick. i _told_ you i miss you, rhysie.”

“fuck,” he curses, again, hand curled around his dick tightening and he fucks up into his own hand needily, “and the- the outfit, too?”

“mhmm,” she says, “the hair and the makeup, i just- i wanted to be pretty for you.”

he gasps under his breath, tugging on himself harder, paying special attention to the movement of her hand – trying to match her pace with his own, so it feels like he’s _there_ , “you’re always pretty to me, fiona. you know that. you’re the-”

“ _rhys_ ,” she groans, desperate, burying her face in her pillow as her whole body twitches with the need to come, “ _please_.”

“okay, okay,” he murmurs, “do you- _ah_ , ya wanna hear about my exciting day at the factory?”

she smiles again, purring in satisfaction at his offer, and her movements increase in speed. he desperately tries to match them with his own hand, overwhelmed with affection for his weird girlfriend and her even weirder desires.

“talk dirty to me, rhysie.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yuzions)   
> 


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